Destiny's Choice is an original work of fiction, a science fiction thriller
of novel length with uber qualities. The plot is layered with romance, political
intrigue, sex, and violence. At times the drama can be intense. Enjoy. Once
completed I hope to find a publisher. I appreciate comments good and bad, especially
if they are constructive.

Destiny's Choice

Chapter 9: The Audience

"Okay,
pause."

The scene froze into a tableau.

No one saw the door open or the woman who quietly slipped into the top row
and took a seat.

"What
is going on?"

Tad Grover
answered, "The argument has taken us right back to Locke and Rousseau."

"That
just doesn't make sense. How do the material needs of Earth and the Lunar colonies
feed into this argument?"

"Good
question, Kent. How does it?"

"Aren't
most colonies established for just that reason?"

"Is
that the real reason for the development of Martian Central?"

"Sure."
Several heads bobbed.

Hayley walked
midst the students who had spent most of the morning center stage discussing
the Douglasites, the delegates attending the convention who wanted the large
conglomerates on Mars to have a larger voice in what was happening.

"Fernando,
why did your family come to Mars?"

"My
parents got jobs with Menteck."

"See,
jobs. Hayley they came for economic reasons."

"Couldn't
they have simply stayed at home or gone to the moon? Why Mars?"

"Because
it was warmer than Io," joked a student resting in a front row chair.

"Bingo,"
chuckled Hayley. "But then cold is cold whether you're here, on Io, or
floating along in the void of space without a heating regular. Back to the problem
at hand. Why do sane men and women, or maybe not so sane men and women, volunteer,
and even pay good hard earned credits, to go out to some unknown rock to live?"

"The
adventure, of course."

"Absolutely.
It's the adventure," Hayley gave her students a smile.

Now the
answers came fast and furious. "To discover something new."

"To
be the first one to see something."

"The
notoriety?"

"For
the freedom, how to say, the independence of being your own person?"

"Okay,
you've got me there," Hayley wiped her eyes when the jocularity ebbed.
"Yes, money, economic gain, power, prestige, they all go hand in hand.
The reason of why is complex, layered. So, what does this eventually mean for
and to these delegates? For their constituents? These men and women have a variety
of complex reasons why they are doing and saying what they are. Today's session
has looked at the wishes and needs of the conglomerates, which had much at stake.
Over the one and a half centuries Mars was a colony, the congloms had invested
trillions of dollars into infrastructure, societal necessities, education, well
this very institution. It was founded, with money from more than a dozen conglomerates
to educate those who were Martian to be engineers, mathematicians, chemists,
hydroponic experts, vulcanists, and for every other profession they might need
to fulfill their missions of tapping into this land's resources, processing
them, and shipping them. Now all of a sudden people, like Marla Karolek, start
spouting Rousseau and Locke."

"Weren't
Karolek's words from the Constitution of the U.G.C.?"

"No,
no, no," Hayley gently shook her head; her wrist vibrated. She looked down
at her wristcom. "Okay. The ol' wrist says its time we say good-bye for
the day. Tomorrow, let's return to this point. I want to know why and how these
references are brought into the debate at this point. Also, I've put several
documents on my Net. For some of you, they will probably look familiar. But
for the rest, for those who have spent most of your time learning the ins and
outs of taking apart a hyperlight engine blindfolded, they shall amaze and dazzle
you. And if not, then I shall deconstruct the web of mystery they might appear
to weave. Until Friday.

Several
students immediately drew PDAs from their pockets and packs.

"The
Magna Carta?"

"Two
Treatises—Professor, these are ancient."

"Ah,
but this is history. The past may confound, but it reality it provides the clues
to who, what, where, and why we are who we are." Hayley returned to the
lectern at the front of the room and saved the sessions Vid for later review.

"Oh wow!"

"It's Stone."

"Stone?"

"Christine Stone."

"Look."

"Hey, Professor! Hayley! Don't you rank!"

Hayley looked up from her tasks towards the commotion in the gallery. "Oh,
by Mars," she gasped with a hoarse voice. A dizzying rush swept over her.
Why is she here?

Christine Stone stepped onto the lecture stage. Dressed
in a black and tan pinstripe suit with a cream-toned blouse, she wore her hair
down and loose. A platinum wristcom adorned her right wrist; a simple platinum
chain hung loosely from her neck.

"Thank you," Hayley stuttered. "The FDR—ah Faculty Dining Commons,'
she fumbled and stumbled as she finished saving her notes and the session vid.
"That would be fine." She looked up and met Christine's simple gaze
and calm expression. She gestured to the exit through which the last of her
students were disappearing.

"You
know, I got lost in this maze," Christine led the way.

Hayley followed, "Easy to do if you don't know the system," she said,
her voice still shaky.

"What system?" The smile was warm, genuine.

Hayley shut off the lights and locked the door. "Follow me."

"Okay, tour guide."

It was the "quickie tour" or so Hayley claimed as she nervously guided
her visitor and they made their way through the corridors and along the movers,
ascending until they reached the upper garden level of the University Country
Club.

"You certainly know the university."

"I grew up here tagging along after my grandmother."

"I understand she was also a historian."

"Yes."

Christine pulled the solid oak door to the Faculty Dining Room and followed
Hayley into the restaurant. "Nice. Not bad. I think Bruce and Delores brought
me here for a little gathering before their wedding."

"You probably don't have much time for travel, vacationing, with your
schedule."

"Nor you I would gather."

A formally attired maitre d' led them to an exquisitely set table near a large
tinted picture window where they could admire a vast gardens overflowing with
a bounty of fauna. Cascades of draping roses, bougainvillea, grape hyacinths,
geraniums, nasturtiums, begonias, and ferns of every variety filled the scene.
"Can I get you anything?" Their host addressed Christine as
he handed her a menu, then Hayley.

"Hayley?"
Christine opened her menu. "Some wine?"

"No,"
Hayley replied. "Could I have some ice water with a wedge of limeon?"
She addressed the host directly.

"Yes
same, and do you carry Späten?" Their host nodded. "I'll take
a bottle then," Christine ordered. "I noticed you didn't drink much
at your party," she said when they were alone.

"I
have a little now and then." Hayley straightened the fork resting on her
napkin. "Usually alcohol just makes me sleepy. I need to prepare for classes
and review some papers and vids tonight."

"I
didn't realize you were running simulations. I would have liked to have seen
more. Next time I'll have to get your sister to draw me a damned map."

Hayley cleared
her throat. It felt dry. She smiled.
"Besides
history and teaching, what else do you like to do? Bruce says you're not interested
in politics."

"Only from a historical perspective."

A waiter returned. He placed a bottle of beer and a frosty glass in front of
Christine and a large, heavy, crystal goblet filled with ice cubes and water
in front of Hayley. A green and yellow striped limeon wedge perched on the rim.
As the waiter set out the drinks, he introduced himself and gave a brief description
of the day's specials.

Thirsty
from her classes, the walk, and her nerves, Hayley took an immediate sip. Following
the waiter with her eyes as he left to give them time to look over the menu,
she tried to see if she recognized any of the other patrons.

She had
noticed Dr. Haughsinger, the head of the History Department, upon their arrival.
She and her three companions were finishing the last bites of their meals in
the back corner. They seemed engaged in a heated discussion of some kind; but
that was Haughsinger's style, confrontational. She also recognized several
other members of the faculty, some of the university's executive staff members,
and an administrator or two. In a closer corner, Dr. Miranda occupied a table
with his companion, a tall man with a decidedly gaunt appearance. Spying her,
Miranda spoke to his tablemate. Nodding, he and the second gentleman rose and
walked towards them.

"Dr.
Miranda." Hayley greeted him. Politely, she began to stand.

With a quick
hand gesture, he urged her to keep her seat.

"Chief
Stone? Didn't I see you at Dr. Genetti's book talk?" Miranda extended his
hand.

"This
is Dr. Florenzo Miranda . . . the Dean of the School of Humanities
and Social Sciences," Hayley introduced.

Christine
shook Miranda's hand.

"With
a Genetti at the podium I had expected to see several Martian government functionaries,
but to have the honor of your attendance." Miranda almost bowed.

"I
was visiting with Hayley's brother-in-law and sister. They're old school chums."

"I
do hope your mother accepted my apologies for missing her party," Miranda
said to Hayley.

"I
hope your wife is feeling better?" Hayley asked. She noticed the tall gentleman
next to Miranda. He wore an odd smile as he studied her. She shifted in her
chair.

"Just
a twenty-four hour Jovian virus. Actually a reaction to the vaccine she had
taken as a preventative, but thank you for asking." The thinner man nudged
Miranda. "Oh, yeah," he snickered, as if he and visitor had a secret
joke. "Let me introduce Dr. Nathan Webster, Dean of Humanities and Letters
at M.I.T."

"Chief? I am honored," Webster shook Christine's hand. Then his gaze
returned to Hayley. He extended his hand. Hayley took it. "Dr. Genetti,
the pleasure is all mine."

Miranda finished, "I've been telling Nathan about your book talk last
Saturday."

Dr. Webster
kept Hayley's hand in his. "I wish I had known about it. I would have come
sooner. I read your book. One of the best scholastic studies I've seen on the
human need for extraterrestrial colonization."

Webster
cupped her hand in his. Hayley blushed. "Thank you."

Miranda
said to Hayley, "I've given Nathan a ROM."

"You'll
find Dr. Genetti's talk most informative, an excellent accompaniment to the
book," said Christine to Webster. She wore a smile that said hands off—
I was here first.

"You
are a devotee of history?" Dr. Webster asked Christine with just a hint
of challenge in his voice.

"I
am now." Christine gave Hayley a lingering glance.

Dr. Miranda
grinned.

So did Webster.
His look told Christine she was safe. He spoke to Hayley. "I look forward
to viewing your presentation. Who knows? M.I.T. has been thinking about
adding a division of Galactic History. If you're as good as I've been hearing,
I might just snag you away from this barren red dust ball."

"Hayley
would never leave," Miranda said confidently.

"I'm
sure I could offer an appropriate enticement. A full professorship and access
to all of the Smithsonian files?"

"Already
has those," Miranda puffed out his chest and put a hand on her shoulder.

"But
think about it." Dr. Webster added a final wink as he pumped her hand one
last time. "As the premier historian in Martian and galactic history, a
field that is just opening on Earth, you could write your own ticket."

"I'm
treated very well here, but thank you."

"It
was nice meeting you," Webster once again shook Christine's hand.

"Next
time you're up at the University let my secretary know," Miranda pulled
a chip from his inside coat pocket. "Give you the complete tour; take in
a couple of our best teachers."

"Thank
you, I'll see, only as long as I get to sit in another of Dr. Genetti's classes."

"We
will," Hayley nodded good bye and watched as the two men as they returned
to their table. Engaged in a brief exchange, a sort of bantering, Miranda
looked back over his shoulder. With a frolicsome snicker, he said something
to Webster, who also took one last glance and smiled.

"Seems
you have many fans," commented Christine dryly as she took a sip of her
beer.

Hayley shrugged.
"They and you are just nice."

Something
in Christine's expression said she did not believe her. "You're not serious?"

"Are
we ready to order?" The waiter appeared at their elbows.

"I
am," said Christine with a hint of irritation in her voice. She quickly
ordered.

Hayley smiled
shyly. She was sure she was blushing. She hated such scrutiny, but for
some reason, perhaps her own unrequited vanity, she enjoyed the unsolicited
attention. "About what?"

"First
about your skills." Hayley felt her blush increase on the scale of redness.
Christine sipped her beer. "About not wanting to leave Mars?" she
added.

The second
caught Hayley off guard. She took a sip of her water. "On vacation perhaps,
but no. This is my home."

"But
you're a Genetti?"

"And
a Martian."

Christine
set her beer down. Her tone turned serious. "What if your government called
you to service?"

"I'm no politician. I have no inclinations whatsoever in that direction—"

"The
U.G.C. and DeBow's administration needs you."

"Yeah," Hayley laughed dismissively. "Sure."

"No, the administration is in need of a historian; a respected historian
to create educational materials explaining why humanity's push to the stars
should be a priority."

"You mean propaganda."

Christine smile. "The truth. Hayley, our government is currently under
siege. There is a movement that's taking root that wants to stop all human efforts
of interstellar exploration."

"You're talking about Dr. Light Horse."

"And her pseudo-academism. I want you to join my staff as my Director
of Historical Education. With your background, you would be perfect."

"Director
of Historical Education," Hayley chuckled. "That's a mighty impressive
title, but you don't understand," she rebuffed, "I'm no politician."

"But
you're a Genetti and the U.G.C. needs you."
Playing with
the condensation forming a foggy hazy around her glass, making short little
zigzag lines with the tip of her right index finger, Hayley could not hide her
wry expression as she shook her head. "You obviously don't know very much
about me. I guess you didn't run this absurdity by Bruce or Delores. Delores
would have told you that the reason the book talk started late was because I
was in the ladies' room losing the breakfast and lunch I'd been smart enough
to avoid eating. I might be a Genetti, but I am no politician. Hell, I hate
everything that goes with the job—crowds, public speaking, parties, making small-talk."

"I
know everything I need to know about you," Christine interrupted sternly.
"I know you published your first article in the Galactic History Journal
when you were ten."

"Just
helping my grandmother."

"No
more false modesty," Christine scolded curtly. She pulled a Palm from the
pocket of her blazer. You've published over fifty articles on various aspects
of Martian History and this theory of yours on mobility. You've also written
a small book for grade school students on the historical principles of the Martian
Constitution. You've created a series of interactive learning modules on the
U.G.C. for the Intergalactic Society of History Teachers, and four years ago
you and your grandmother wrote the text for a series of documentaries for the
nets on Anton Brezhinski, the earlier Mariners, the United Mining Consortium,
and Martian contributions in intergalactic affairs. You received your doctorate
in history at twenty, became a tenured associate professor at twenty-two, and
received your tenure and full professorship just last year at the age of twenty-eight,
the youngest in the history of this university. Surprisingly Where No Man
Has Gone Before is your first book, and though Martian University Press
has distributed mainly to academic facilities and libraries, after your talk
Saturday they are reviewing that decision. They are thinking of a second printing,
making it available on the Net."

"My,
my—you know more about me then I do."

"I do my research and what I want I get."

"You're pretty full of yourself."

"Absolutely. Need to be to do my job. Listen Hayley, I've read your book,"
she continued, "and I attended your book talk. You are a damned good historian
and a damned good orator. You write so that the average Spacer and Earther can
understand what you have to say. Hell, you make it entertaining. At the book
talk you had that audience engrossed on your every word."

"They
were trapped."

"No."
Christine took a sip of his beer. "You had them spellbound. You had me
spellbound, and I'll be the first to admit I've never had any great interest
in history, only the requirements needed to get my degrees. No," a small
congenial smile broke across her lips as she finished the last of the brew in
her glass. She placed the glass back on the table. "You're a damn fine
historian—a historian for the masses. You are definitely a Genetti. The content
is different to be sure, but you, your sister, mother, father—if your damned
family wasn't so committed to Martian politics—maybe Bruce," she acknowledged
her brother-in-law's more galactic aspirations. "Well, I expect, one
day, to see a Genetti sitting in the governor general's office."

"Maybe
Bruce," Hayley concurred, shaking her head at Christine's preposterous
notion. "I'm just a simple historian and teacher. That's all I've ever
wanted. I have no grand schemes for my life. I don't even want to be a
dean. I just want to teach my classes, do research, and write—maybe one day
become head archivist like my grandmother," she conceded as her mind
wandered and she rambled just a bit. "But politics? No way! You don't know
how much I hated Saturday."

"You
were nervous."

"Nervous
is an understatement."

Hayley stopped speaking when the waiter returned with their meals. Sitting
quietly, she watched as he placed a large plate of pasta drenched in a seductive
alfredo cream sauce with a crispy, sautéed vegetable medley of cauliflower,
broccoli, red peppers, and carrots, and freshly grated Parmesan cheese in front
of Christine. Christine unfolded her napkin and laid it across her lap. Taking
her fork, she prepared to assault the brightly colored dish.

Mimicking
the same polite movements, Hayley laid her own beige napkin across her lap.
Less impatient to eat, she kept her hands back allowing the waiter to set her
salad and a small vial of dressing in the open space in front of her.

"Thank
you," they said in turn.

Hayley picked
up her fork and took inventory of the various greens: red and green lettuce,
some Romaine, spinach, endive, artichoke hearts, julienne slices of green, red,
purple, and yellow bell pepper, garbanzo and kidney beans, wedges of a juicy
red beefsteak tomato, and cubes of blackened chicken, and cheese, cheddar and
jack.

"That
looks good," Christine motioned as she put a bite of the decadently dressed
fettuccine in her mouth.

Hayley drizzled
half of the Caesar dressing over her feast. "Yes," she imagined the
cool crunchy taste of the greens bursting in her mouth. She eagerly stabbed
the garden fresh mound with her fork.

"I
concede, you were nervous," Christine returned to their interrupted conversation
as she slurped the last of a noodle. "But to tell you the truth, I bet
if you were to ask Bruce, Delores, or even your parents, they'd tell you that
before a speaking engagement they have to fight their nerves."

"Maybe
not the throwing up, but I know the terror and panic that can come with getting
up in front of an audience. Hayley, public speaking is like riding a bicycle.
The first couple of times are a bit wobbly, but with experience, it becomes
so in-grained you would think talking to large groups of people was something
you always did. It becomes natural. Probably like teaching. How do you get through
all of your classes? I counted nearly seventy seats in that lecture hall and
according to the Registrar's Office most of your classes are full."

"That's
different," Hayley argued, not hiding her annoyance with Christine's audacity.
"When I teach, I never feel self-conscious, like I'm on display."

"Why?"

"When
I'm teaching I see myself as an actress. The classroom is my stage, and I am
only a character in a play. It's not really me my students see. So if I blow
it and make a fool of myself, they aren't ridiculing me. They're laughing at
a character I've created. I've never had any misconceptions about who I am.
When class is over, I go back to my real persona—quiet, little, ole introverted
me."

"Is
that what you did for the book talk?"

Hayley thought
for moment and then nodded. "Yes."

"And
the party?"

"I
hated every minute of that. I wanted to run as far away as I could and hide.
If I could have gotten away with it, I would have snuck up to my parents' study
and lost myself in a book."

"Why?"

"I've
just never been good at big gatherings like that. I never know what to say.
I hate small talk. I feel like I'm smothering—I'm claustrophobic. Everything—everyone
just becomes a great, big spinning maze. Sometimes I can even feel myself starting
to hyperventilate. I get dizzy; I feel sick."

"You
seemed to do all right Saturday?"

"Delores
wouldn't let go of me. I was so happy when the evening ended. I went home and
hid all day Sunday."

Christine
put another forkful of twirled noodles into her mouth. Chewing, she watched
Hayley. Her dark eyes, like walnut glazed amber, piercing, they seemed to penetrate
into her soul, peeling back the layers of her carefully hidden persona. Awash
in her gaze, Hayley wondered if her face had reddened again. She was warm, uncomfortable.

"You
are a paradox, Dr. Genetti. Do you know how lovely you are? You are really a
beautiful woman."

Now Hayley
knew she was blushing. The sudden change in the subject of their conversation
had taken her completely by surprise. She wanted to say something, to neutralize
her attention and growing infatuation.

"I
bet you hear it all the time." Christine chewed. "I remember the last
time I came to Mars—Delores and Bruce's wedding. You were just a skinny little
teenager. I couldn't believe it last Friday when Bruce told me that this foxy
lady on the other end of the Vid was you."

Hayley wished
she would stop. At the same time she found herself enjoying the flattery.

Looking
straight into her eyes, Christine produced a coy smile. "I find you enchanting."